


fall and fixture

by glutamate



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bathroom Sex, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scenes, no plot just vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glutamate/pseuds/glutamate
Summary: Kneeling next to her chair with her lips pressed to Dani’s hand, Jamie looked like some kind of knight, all steady patience and uncomplicated devotion, and Jesus Christ, Dani loved her so hard it made her teeth hurt sometimes with the potency of it, the way her ribs seemed to stretch open just at the sight of Jamie. What a shame it would be, she thought, to let this slip out of her grasp, to let fear force her hand that way.A few moments in Dani's life and descent, before the end.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 17
Kudos: 116





	fall and fixture

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bon Iver's "8 (circle)".

> Why love what you will lose?
> 
> There is nothing else to love.
> 
> — Louise Glück, _Triumph of Achilles._

The first time Dani saw the Lady of the Lake in herself — that smooth-faced, unyielding specter, not threatening in any concrete way but just sort of, well, _there_ — she convinced herself that her mind was playing tricks on her. She was used to flinching at her own reflection, anyway, and Eddie’s shadow had never actually been able to hurt her; there was no reason why this was any different. She blinked, the light falling on the glass door shifted, and then she could see herself again. There was Jamie, holding a tin watering can and grinning at her from inside their little flower shop, and the sight grounded Dani. _This is your life_. 

She pushed the door open with her shoulder and almost lost her grip on the tower of library books she had clutched to her chest. She probably would have dropped them all if Jamie hadn’t immediately set her watering can down and grabbed them from her. 

“So chivalrous,” Dani said, her face growing hot at Jamie’s answering wink. 

“Ah, anything for you, m’lady,” she said, in an exaggerated version of her accent that always made Dani laugh. “Where do you want these?” 

“Upstairs, please. And thank you.” 

Jamie kissed her on the cheek, feather-light, and disappeared up the stairs to the apartment they now shared, right above their little flower-shop. It seemed like a miracle that this was her life. Before Bly, she’d never dared to imagine happiness this potent, hadn’t even really thought it was possible for her, even before she stopped being able to pretend to herself that things with Eddie were real. Part of her life had always had a muted, distorted quality to it, like she was watching the rest of the world from inside a fishbowl, watching light and love filter in through a glass cage. 

And then there was Jamie. Even the very first sight of her — messy hair, muddy hands, self-possessed saunter — had felt more real than anything Dani had experienced before, and then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, she could no longer imagine having to be anything less than herself. 

That evening Dani made their favorite end-of-the-week meal, penne in a cheesy, roux-y sauce plus whatever vegetables they still had left in the fridge chopped up and thrown in; it was basically a grown-up version macaroni and cheese, and the first real thing she’d learned to cook when they first settled in Vermont. Jamie was doing her version of contributing, which meant “taste-testing” (swiping fingerfuls of sauce straight out of the pan when Dani wasn’t looking), “setting the table” (pouring them both generous glasses of Merlot), and “keeping up morale” (pressing into Dani from behind, kissing her neck, her firm grip on Dani’s hips sending goosebumps up her thighs). 

“Stop that,” Dani giggled, though she didn’t really mean it. Jamie nibbled at her earlobe and laughed, her breath hot and close against Dani’s cheek. 

“Stop what? That?” 

“You’re gonna make me burn this, seriously.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Jamie stepped back, sounding genuinely chagrined. 

“No, no, I was kidding, come back,” Dani said, and Jamie laughed and listened, stepping close until their bodies were fitted together once more. She would never get tired of being close to Jamie like this. It was impossible to ever be close enough, really. Sometimes when they held each other she would shut her eyes and imagine getting even closer than they already were, the atoms that made up their bodies vibrating together, crossing the thresholds of skin and bone — which seemed so arbitrary, in those moments, the physical borders separating them — until there was no longer a point where Dani ended and where Jamie began. 

Those were the moments when Dani was most keenly aware of the Lady’s presence. The fact was, there was a second passenger sharing her body now, and it was with her whether she could feel it or not, sharing the taste of Jamie’s lips and the weight of Jamie’s body on top of her and the sound of Jamie’s laughter and _everything_. The thought of it made her feel tainted. 

They talked about their days as they ate. Dani talked about her day at work; she now served as a tutor and occasional substitute teacher at a local elementary school, which was enough work to make her feel like she had a purpose, but the tutoring engagements were discrete enough that, when the time came that she’d inevitably have to quit, it wouldn’t affect the children too significantly. Jamie listened, tearing off pieces of her bread roll, dipping them in butter, nodding along while Dani rambled. (She had a bad habit of talking more than necessary, she knew, but Jamie never interrupted or complained.) 

Jamie was in the middle of telling her about a teenage boy who’d nervously asked her for help picking out a prom corsage when it happened for the second time. She glanced down at her spoon, and there it was, that same smooth face as before, and still it was just blurry enough in the scratched metal that it could, plausibly, just be a figment of Dani’s imagination. It had to be. 

“Hey,” Jamie said. “Poppins. You alright?” 

“Um, yeah,” she said, her voice much higher than normal. She cleared her throat. “Just tired.” 

“Mmm. I still think you work too hard, you know.” 

“If you had your way, I’d never have to go to work at all.”

Jamie laughed and stood, gathering their plates and silverware, taking them to the sink, running the tap to wash them. Dani blinked at her half-full glass of wine and saw nothing out of the ordinary in her reflection. The moment had passed. 

* * *

It happened again on a Saturday a couple weeks after the first sighting. Dani had just gotten back from her morning run, her ponytail sticking to her neck with sweat, a Walkman stuffed into her front pocket. She did this every Saturday: she rose with Jamie, who’d turned her into a morning person, she put on her running clothes, and ventured into the bracing just-past-sunrise air. Afterwards, there would be breakfast in their kitchenette (with coffee for Dani, tea for Jamie), followed by the two of them lounging on the couch and doing the daily crossword while the morning news played, followed by languid, lazy sex in the hazy sunlight, the crossword laying forgotten on the coffee table. 

When she was younger she’d feared falling into a routine like this. Now she found that these were the parts of her life she appreciated the most, the small things that she could count on being the same, no matter what. She’d thought it would be boring, that going through the same motions repeated week after week would dull their realness, like sandpaper wearing away sharp edges, but she found that actually, each passing moment with Jamie only made her feel more alive. (Plus, she hadn’t exactly anticipated a “boring” life involving this much sex.)

She turned the key in the lock to their apartment and was immediately greeted by Jamie, already dressed, beaming at her from the doorway. 

“Well, hello there,” she said.

“D'you have plans today?” 

“Aside from grading worksheets? No.” She edged past Jamie and into the apartment, where she spotted a large picnic basket perched on the dinette table. “Why? Are you planning something?” 

“Maybe,” Jamie said, smiling through the corner of her mouth.

“Do I have time to take a shower first?” She gestured at herself, indicating the sweat drying on her skin. “Not really a question, I kinda need one.” 

“Better make it quick,” Jamie said, and Dani rolled her eyes, pushing past her into the hallway that led to their bathroom (which was also the only hallway in their apartment). 

The rusty faucets in their shower squeaked when she turned them on. As the water heated up, she stood with her towel wrapped around her, eyes down, trying not to glance at the mirror above the sink. Lately, no matter what she tried to tell herself, she’d been falling back into old habits: ducking her head when she brushed her teeth or washed her hands, watching the foamy tap water swirl down the drain to avoid the chance that she’d look up and see _her_. Reflections were everywhere, though — windows, pools, the rearview mirror of their ancient used Honda — and Dani didn’t think she’d seen anything out of the ordinary since that first awful encounter. That was weeks ago now. She still had time, she thought. They still had time. 

Not that it really mattered. If there was something else (someone else) there, it would be there whether she saw it or not. With or without her knowledge, it would take her. But looking would make it _real_ , and she didn’t think she was ready to acknowledge, just yet, that her time with Jamie had an expiration date. 

Dani took an unusually long shower — twenty minutes, until Jamie knocked on the door and yelled “Still alive in there?” — and spent all of it trying to work up the courage to look into the mirror when she got out. She didn’t feel any different. There was no way the Lady was manifesting herself so early. The first time she saw her must have been a trick of the light. All she had to do was look at her reflection for one stupid millisecond and she could feel okay about her life for a little longer, could go out for Jamie’s mysterious surprise without worrying that today was the day her mind was finally swallowed whole — 

She stepped out of the shower. The bathmat was cold and damp under her bare feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the mirror was fogged up entirely, with a few stray drops of condensation rolling down and carving little paths of clarity in their wake. 

“Okay,” she said, out loud. It made her feel a little better to say it out loud. “It’s okay. It’s fine.” 

With one trembling hand, she wiped the steam off the mirror, swiping quickly at it like it was on fire, like it would hurt if she touched it for too long, but she had to do this fast or she would never do it at all, it was like ripping off a Band-Aid that way, and — 

Nothing. The surface of the mirror, now clear, revealed nothing but her own face, staring terrified and dripping-wet back at her. No spectres or weird faces. Just Dani. Still just Dani. 

* * *

“Dani,” Jamie said. “Oi. Earth to Dani.”

Dani looked away from the window with a start. They were on the way to a still-unknown location, Jamie driving (she’d gotten her license not long after they moved there, and _still_ occasionally complained about driving on the right side of the road even though they’d been in Vermont for years now), Dani in the passenger seat. She’d been watching the trees that bracketed the country road they were on; Jamie had a tendency to drive too fast, so the forests next to them looked kaleidoscopic as they zoomed past, all blurring together into a mess of greens and reds and oranges and browns. She’d lost track of time. 

“Huh?” she said. “I — sorry, did you say something?” 

“Just trying to get your attention,” Jamie said. She winked. “Missed you, is all.” 

Dani giggled. “I didn’t go anywhere!” 

“Well, yeah, but y’know, you get” — she waved one finger in a circle around Dani’s head, as if to indicate her brain — “lost in there, sometimes.” 

“I guess I was kind of drifting.” 

Jamie was quiet for a moment. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. The sound made Dani nervous. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, yeah? If something was...off somehow?” 

She hadn’t seen the Lady of the Lake that morning. Nothing was wrong. Right? But could Jamie tell, somehow? Was her ghost showing in ways she hadn’t realized?

“Sure, yeah,” Dani said, forcing an unconvincing levity into her voice. “Of course.” 

“Okay.”

“There’s a cop ahead,” Dani said. Jamie slammed on the brakes, and they passed undisturbed. “Anyway, um, why the question?” 

Jamie shook her head. “Just checking,” she said, and Dani nodded even though that answer didn’t make much sense. 

They’d talked about it, of course, when all this first started. Their ghost. The unseen, unheard third party in their relationship. When they’d first arrived in America together, they had plenty of long, nauseating conversations about it (usually late at night, over boxes of Chinese takeout and gas-station wine): what it might mean for them, to know that there was an axe hanging over Dani’s head that could fall whenever it felt like it. They never reached a satisfying conclusion. Weeks passed, then months, then years, and life started to settle and fall into place around them, until they just...stopped acknowledging it. 

Which is why it would be difficult to bring it back up now, when things seemed to be going so well for them. Jamie’s flower-shop was doing better every year, and Dani finally had a job she liked; why risk ruining things by mentioning the ghostly elephant in the room?

“We’re here,” Jamie said, an indeterminate amount of time later (Dani had been drifting again). The gears clunked audibly as she parked. They were in front of what appeared to be a massive, sprawling forest, trees spreading and reaching toward the sky as far as Dani could see. A single paved trail led through the mess of bark and stone and foliage. 

“It’s a bit of a hike to get where we’re going,” Jamie said, “but I promise it’s worth it.” 

When they got out of the car, Jamie popped open the trunk and produced the wicker basket that Dani had seen earlier.

“A picnic, huh?” Dani said. 

“I guess that bit was obvious when you saw the rather conspicuous _picnic_ basket earlier.” 

“Well, you coulda been sneakier about it, for sure.” 

Jamie rolled her eyes. “I know you like being surprised, but not _too_ surprised, so.” 

That was true; she preferred having some idea of where things were going, especially now. Some part of Dani was still, after all these years, a little surprised when Jamie remembered small things like this: how, without having to ask, Jamie would make her coffee the way she liked it (plenty of cream, plenty of sugar), or remember to pull the blinds up in the morning because Dani liked waking up to sunlight warming her face, or any number of other minutiae that Jamie would take note of and silently arrange to suit Dani’s preferences. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jamie said. 

“Like what?” 

“Like...I dunno, you’ve got that, like, dopey little smile on your face.” 

She smiled even wider at that. “I just love you, is all.” 

After what seemed like hours (but was probably only twenty minutes or so), they arrived at a fork in the path, and Jamie turned around and stepped in front of Dani. 

“Can you wait here a sec?” Jamie said, with a nervous smile that looked misplaced on her face. Dani nodded and Jamie disappeared off onto the narrower of the two trails ahead of them, picnic basket in hand. 

A breeze whistled through the trees around Dani, sending dry early-fall leaves skittering across the ground. She crushed one of them under her sneaker, listened to the sound it made as it crumbled. Watched a squirrel pick up an acorn and scurry across a branch. Pulled her denim jacket a little tighter around her shoulders. And then, out of nowhere, she thought about the fact that right then, right here, on this steep section of trail going up some godforsaken hill or mountain or whatever, she was alone. 

For the first time since that morning, in the bathroom, she was alone. Suddenly the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, like reality was sliding out of focus right in front of her, because if she was alone, how could she be sure that she wasn’t turning into _her_? Without Jamie by her side, who would be able to tell where Dani ended and the ghost began? 

She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate, her breaths coming short and shallow. The wind had picked up; instead of the gentle breeze, it now felt cold and cruel, biting at her skin and making her fingertips throb. She scrambled in her purse for a compact, something with a glass surface, a zipper whose metal hadn’t been scratched to shit, fucking _anything_ she could use to look at her reflection, but there was nothing there, and all she had was herself and that terrible rage in the back of her head, and it was growing stronger so _fast,_ and she would have to just hope it was being kept at bay until — 

“Ready,” Jamie said. 

Jamie stood at the fork in the trail with her hands in her jean pockets, smiling a soft, quiet smile that caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle. She held out her hand, and Dani took it. Just like that, the anger settled as quickly as it came, draining like some foreign poison out of Dani’s veins. She knit their fingers together and let Jamie lead her a little further along the path, through the brush and the trees, into a small clearing.

“Wow,” Dani breathed. The trail had sloped upwards gradually, so she hadn’t realized how high up they actually were until now. They stood on an outcropping that overlooked the entire park: from here, she could see the tops of the trees that made up the forest, the gradients of the changing leaves, the faint shadow of mountains in the distance. The sky above them was a sharp, clear blue, and nearly cloudless. 

Jamie had laid out a large checkered picnic blanket, and on top of it, a Saran-wrapped plate of small triangular sandwiches, sliced bread with what looked like their favorite garlic spread, a bowl full of cut strawberries plus a cup of melted chocolate, and a bottle of champagne nestled in an ice-filled cooler (how’d that fit in the picnic basket?). A lit candle burned in the middle of the spread, next to a clay pot containing — of course — a moonflower. 

“Y’know,” Jamie said from behind her, “today marks five years since we got here.” 

“Really?” She turned to face Jamie, who was walking toward her with a steady, dizzying smile. “God. I’m sorry, I didn’t even — ”

“Alright, _no_ , I didn’t bring you out here to inspire a guilt trip. I just thought…” She took both of Dani’s hands in her own, rubbed her thumbs across her knuckles. “Well, we didn’t know how long we’d have, did we? And now look at us. Five _years_ , Dani.” 

Now that Jamie was closer, close enough that their foreheads could touch if they tipped them forward a bit, Dani could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Jamie shook her head. “No, let me — dammit, I had a whole little speech prepared for this, but I dunno if I can get through it now that I actually have you in front of me.” She laughed, and Dani couldn’t help but smile along with her. “The point is, we’ve made it this far, and — no ghostly possessions or anything, right? And we’ve had this fucking thing hanging over our heads but we’re getting through it, right, we’re _living_ despite it.” 

“One day at a time,” Dani whispered, through a tight-lipped smile that she hoped didn’t look as scared as she felt just then, listening to the hope in Jamie’s voice while knowing all the while that her ghost was returning. 

“One day at a time. And look where that’s gotten us. I just...I thought that was something to celebrate.”

It was, in theory, a perfect day. The way the sunlight was hitting Jamie’s eyes and turning them a shimmering grey-green, the decadence of the food before them, the seventy-degree almost-chill that marked the final dregs of nice weather before winter set in: the pieces all fit together, and Dani should have been at peace, and still she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to dive headlong into a dark, endless night. 

“Things might not always be this good,” she managed to say. 

Jamie shrugged. “I know. But you know what? Right now, they _are_ this good, and I’m okay with whatever bad shit has to happen eventually if it means even one more day like this with you.” 

She should tell her. She _had_ to tell her. Here was Jamie, all uninhibited joy and hope, with no idea that the anchor she’d hitched herself to was about to start sinking. She had to tell her, to give her some choice in the matter. 

But it was such a perfect day. Dani pictured herself saying it — _I saw her, I saw her in my own fucking face and now I know she’s awake and it’s only a matter of time_ — but then she’d inevitably start crying, and Jamie would have to hold her together, and this afternoon that was supposed to be a celebration would be ruined because of her. 

So, instead, she leaned forward until the tip of her nose brushed Jamie’s, until their bodies were flush from their hips to their shoulders, until she could breathe in the clean scent of Jamie’s cedar shampoo. 

“God, I love you,” she whispered, because that was something that was true no matter what, and she would mean it just the same even if (when) the Lady came back. 

“Love you too,” Jamie said, barely audible over the thudding over Dani’s heartbeat in her ears, and she wrapped both her hands around Jamie’s jaw and kissed her, hard and deep and hungry, the way she’d kissed her the first time all those years ago. Jamie always made her feel so _real_ , so solid, so that Dani could tangle her fingers in her hair and pull her close by the collar of her shirt and be reassured that she still belonged in her own body. 

Jamie made a small, surprised noise in the back of her throat, and when they finally separated she said, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” 

“Do I need a reason?” she said.

“Definitely not.”

One day at a time. The beast was catching up, casting its shadow over her, but today she had this, at least.

* * *

Embarrassingly enough, Dani had actually bought the ring that she proposed with just a few months after they moved to America. Things had been so (wonderfully) strange between them, back during those early days: stable, in that it was already obvious to both of them that this was something real and enduring, and yet tenuous, because the fact was they’d _moved continents_ together and they still didn’t know what to call this thing between them. 

(Dani still remembered how she felt on the flight from London to New York, the dizzy joy in her stomach, looking through her window as England disappeared under layers of clouds, and the way Jamie squeezed her hand because it was her first flight ever and she was secretly nervous. They’d paid extra for mini-bottles of champagne and toasted to their new lives together, giggling in hushed voices like they were sharing a secret, and for the first time in her life Dani had felt utterly weightless.) 

She’d known that it was way too early to be in love (and that, well, it wasn’t exactly possible for them to get married), but she had spent too long denying the reality of things she felt, so the moment she had a free afternoon and enough money saved up, she’d gone straight to the jewelry store in the neighboring town. The man at the front of the store asked what he could do for her, and when she told him she wanted to look at engagement rings, he’d given her an odd look. 

“For yourself?” he asked. 

She looked at him — his oily hair, which was slicked back so that his receding hairline was on full display, and the horn-rimmed glasses that didn’t suit his pointy face at all — and knew that it would be easier to just say _Sure_ , and make up some half-believable story about it. But she was trying not to be that person anymore, so she smiled sweetly and said, “No,” bought the ring she wanted, set her credit card down on the glass counter with what she hoped looked like cool confidence, and walked out thinking that at least right now she didn’t give a shit what the world thought about her. 

The ring, sitting in a velvet container which was in turn stuffed into a small, nondescript-looking cardboard box, had been languishing at the back of Dani’s bookshelf ever since then (right behind _Language Essentials for Teachers, Second Edition_ , because she figured Jamie would never have any reason to move it). For the first year or so, she didn’t touch it because it was, obviously, too soon. Then, things were going so well that she didn’t want to risk changing anything for the worse; if she told Jamie that she wanted to be with her for the rest of her life, Jamie would eventually have to start thinking about how long, exactly, that would be. 

But it felt like every time she passed that bookshelf, her heart climbed a little further into her throat. She couldn’t tell if it was from dread or anticipation. The two were getting harder to distinguish from one another. 

The months passed quickly, which, as Dani was realizing, is the way time tends to work when one spends most of it fearing the future. October came and went with minimal incident, except for Beggars’ Night, which found Dani sitting in a folding chair outside their apartment to pass out candy, right next to a pumpkin that Jamie had begrudgingly carved at her insistence. There was a brief, terrifying moment where she thought she saw the Lady in the shiny visor of some kid’s astronaut costume, and then blinked and realized all she was looking at was a now-very-confused child. 

“Oh,” she muttered as soon as she could make out her own face in the reflection. “Sorry, sorry.” She shoved her hand into the bag of mini-Twix bars on her lap and dropped an indiscriminate number into the kid’s plastic pumpkin basket, calling out, “Cool costume!” as he tottered away. Then she stumbled inside and told Jamie she needed a quick break. 

“Everything alright?” Jamie said. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Her voice was too high, and her hands shook as she closed the apartment door and flicked off the light outside. “Just a little tired, you know.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Dani almost said _I think I did_ , and then Jamie cracked a smile, winking at her from where she was sprawled out on the couch, a beer in her hand. She managed to force out a laugh, and said, “Halloween’s an interesting holiday when you’ve actually lived in a haunted house, huh?” 

“Some of those costumes a bit too realistic?” 

“Something like that.” She wasn’t sure if they were still joking, because now Jamie was regarding her with that gentle suspicion she always wielded when there was something lurking under the surface of Dani’s words. (She didn’t have a very good poker face.) 

“C’mere,” Jamie said. She set the beer bottle down on a side table and patted the cushion next to her. “Come on, just for a minute. I’ve been lonely in here.” 

The purpose of her break from Candy Duty was, simply, to speed-walk to the bathroom, stare at herself in the mirror until she truly believed it was still her, splash some cold water on her face, and hope that it worked to stop her from hyperventilating, to satiate that crawling need to know she was still _Dani_ , that itch that had begun rising whenever she thought she saw the ghost. Still, Jamie’s counteroffer was tempting, with the way her oversized flannel was slung around her shoulders, eyelids made just a little heavy from drinking, smug almost-grin flickering across her mouth.

Dani’s previous encounters with the Lady’s face, sparse and discrete though they were, had followed a distinct pattern: after the initial sighting, she just had to find another reflective surface as soon as possible, to double check. The act itself seemed to chase away whatever trace of the Lady had risen to the surface, because Dani never actually saw her when she looked again. She had never tried resisting the urge before, and the moment she considered it she could feel panic bubbling in her throat, hot and angry like acid. 

“In a second,” she said, and then she let the terror carry her to the bathroom, walking as fast as she reasonably could with Jamie watching her, as if the Lady would somehow arise and swallow her within the next fifteen seconds. When she got there, she leaned against the sink so hard it made her palms hurt, and in the mirror was exactly what she’d expected to find, just her own face, upper lip trembling and nostrils flared, the beginnings of dark circles stamped under her eyes like bruises. 

November, she and Jamie had their own little makeshift Thanksgiving, which meant they attempted and failed to cook a turkey; Jamie was left to deactivate the blaring smoke detector while Dani shouted their Chinese order into the phone. They ate their food straight out of the carton using a set of chopsticks that Owen had given them last time he’d been State-side. 

“This is probably better than the turkey would have been,” Jamie said through a mouthful of noodles. 

“Watch it, that’s my hypothetical cooking you’re insulting,” Dani said. 

Jamie pulled an offended face. “ _Our_ cooking.” 

“Mmm. My cooking.”

Jamie laughed in that roguish way she always did, her mouth just falling unguardedly open, and for some reason it was _that_ moment that unravelled Dani. All week, she’d been a set of tightly-wound knots — trying to work the holiday into her lesson plans, having to think about gratitude and family and appreciating what you’ve got, trying very hard _not_ to think about how temporary her own little piece of contentment was — and Jamie’s laugh simply tugged on a stray end of one of those knots, until the whole thing fell apart all at once, and Dani choked out a single, sudden sob. 

“Whoa. What — Dani?” Jamie said. Dani’s vision blurred, and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid crying directly onto her dinner. There was a clattering sound, the squeak of a chair being pushed hastily back, and then Jamie’s presence at her side, Jamie’s fingers weaving through her own. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sorry,” Dani whispered, “sorry, I didn’t mean to — I don’t even know what’s wrong, just — ” She sucked in a stuttering breath through her mouth, which didn’t help at all. Jamie squeezed her hand tighter. 

“Take your time, I’m right here.”

She blinked furiously up at the overhead light. “God, I’m sorry. This is so stupid.” 

“It is not,” Jamie said. “Unless it’s because I said that thing about the turkey. In which case…” 

Dani managed a wet laugh. Jamie was good at this, at taking her freakouts in stride and defusing them delicately. “Definitely not that. No, it’s...I can’t really explain, not in a way that makes sense, anyway.” With the sleeve of her oversized sweater, she swiped at her eyes. “I don’t wanna worry you or anything. I can handle it, I just need a minute, I think.” 

“Hey. Look at me,” Jamie said, her voice quieter and more serious now. She put one hand on Dani’s cheek and turned her face gently, calloused palm hot against Dani’s skin, until they were facing each other. “It’s you and me, alright? This isn’t, like, you fighting whatever battles by yourself and me just hanging around as long as everything’s peachy. Whatever it is, whatever happens, I’m gonna be right next to you for all of it.” 

It certainly wasn’t the first time Jamie had said something to that effect. _Do you want company? While you wait for your beast in the jungle?_

But, Dani thought, it was easy to feel that way back when the reality of her situation was some theoretical eventuality, barely visible on the horizon of their futures. “I don’t know if you understand what you signed up for,” she said miserably. 

“Is it…” Jamie looked back and forth, nodding, as if hoping Dani would get her point without her actually having to say it. “Y’know. _Her?_ ” 

This, Dani knew, was an inflection point. Maybe things would be easier if she just was honest _right now_. Maybe Jamie could hold her, look at her with that strong, steadying gaze, and tell her she wasn’t going crazy, that she was still Dani, that none of this mattered and that they’d live happily ever after no matter what. 

Or, as was far more likely, their little bubble of domestic bliss would shatter instantly, Jamie would worry herself sick and ultimately decide it wasn’t worth all this trouble, and then it would just be Dani, all alone with her ghost. Plus, it wasn’t like she had any real _proof_ that the Lady was awakening. Just a few blurry reflections, maybe three or four a month. 

“No,” she lied. “Not really. I mean, sort of, I guess. It’s not _her_. I just. I keep thinking about how much time we have left.” Her voice turned high at the end of the sentence, cracking with the effort of keeping a fresh sob at bay. 

“Oh, Poppins.” Jamie’s other hand was now curled at the base of Dani’s neck, where the beginning of a post-cry headache was already settling into her skull.

“I know, I know.” She sniffled. “It’s just that I don’t ever want this to end, you know?” 

“I know.” 

Kneeling next to her chair with her lips pressed to Dani’s hand, Jamie looked like some kind of knight, all steady patience and uncomplicated devotion, and Jesus _Christ_ , Dani loved her so hard it made her teeth hurt sometimes with the potency of it, the way her ribs seemed to stretch open just at the sight of Jamie. What a shame it would be, she thought, to let this slip out of her grasp, to let fear force her hand that way. She gripped the soft waffle-knit of Jamie’s collar and pulled her up into a kiss, almost violently, so that Jamie’s knees hit the edge of the chair and she had to steady herself with a hand on Dani’s lap. Her mouth was warm and open, and still tasted like the acidic bite of the Pinot Gris they’d been drinking with dinner. 

Dani skated her fingertips down Jamie’s jaw, the jut of her collarbone, the flat expanse of her stomach. “I love you,” she whispered, over and over again into Jamie’s lips and then down the column of her throat, _I love you, I love you, I love you —_

“If you don’t slow down, I’m gonna forget all about dinner,” Jamie said, sounding as breathless as Dani felt, even though the tears hadn’t even dried on her cheeks yet. 

“We’ll just microwave it later,” she muttered.

“It’ll taste shite reheated.” 

“I don’t care,” Dani said, and she could feel Jamie smile into the kiss. 

Later, when they lay tangled together on the couch, their dinners still sitting unfinished on the table, Dani thought back to the ring she’d bought all those years ago. Jamie had dozed off with her head on Dani’s chest and both arms wrapped around her waist, and Dani could feel each puff of her breath against her sternum. 

Dani wasn’t a person prone to anger. She’d gotten used to the constant background hum of the Lady’s rage, swimming underneath the surface of her mind, and at a certain point she’d become able to tame it to some degree. In the beginning, it had felt like a maelstrom of pure, unrelenting black, all that empty hate and loneliness stuffed into the cracks of who Dani already was; then, slowly, the sharp edges of it had settled, like rock formations sanded down by the current. 

Recently, though, she’d felt it seeping through again. It was rare, and probably more attributable to stress or hormones or literally anything more scientific than her ghostly possession coming back to take control of her mind, but it felt jarringly unfamiliar nonetheless. She would be doing something as simple as driving to work, and seemingly out of nowhere she would feel this hot, blinding anger, directed at nothing in particular, just _there_ , caught in her throat like bile.

Now a different kind of anger arose that was entirely Dani’s own: a kind of stubborn indignation at what was being taken from her. _Her_ life with Jamie, _her_ peace of mind, _her_ own goddamn face in the mirror. 

So, one morning several weeks later, she woke up before Jamie so that she could take the ring out from its hiding spot in the bookshelf. During her lunch break, she buried it in the potted plant that she kept at her desk at school (which was on the verge of death, to be honest, because Jamie’s green thumb had yet to rub off on her). She presented it to Jamie under the guise of asking her to rescue it, and delivered the little speech that she had, embarrassingly, pre-rehearsed in the car beforehand, because part of her was still a little nervous that this — asking Jamie to tether herself to her for the rest of their lives — would be the moment she asked for too much, the moment Jamie realized it wasn’t worth the burden. 

But Jamie, already tearing up, just said, “I reckon that’s enough for me,” and then they were both crying, and Jamie was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her, each time breaking away briefly to whisper _I love you_ through a wild smile, and Dani tried to swallow the dread long enough to smile back. 

* * *

In December, they took a week-long trip to Paris. Owen’s restaurant had been up and running for over a year now, and they’d been promising for ages to come visit; this was as good a time as any, since Dani had half the month off for Christmas break and they now had an engagement to celebrate. Dani couldn’t fall asleep on the seven-hour flight over. Instead she pulled her window blind open, long after the overhead lights had been turned off, Jamie dozing peacefully with her head on her shoulder, and watched the red lights on the wing blinking on and off. 

Since the proposal, her ghost had been laying somewhat dormant, which should have been a relief but instead felt like the ominous lull in a horror movie right before someone gets murdered. It didn’t come as much of a surprise, then, to finally see that face again at their dinner with Owen. Dani took it in with a resigned sort of fear, like her body had gotten so used to the feeling (or, alternatively, tipsy off the champagne) that it didn’t register as physically anymore. Here, there was nowhere to flee, no bathroom mirror to speed-walk to and hyperventilate at herself, just Jamie’s hand curled around her waist and Owen’s puzzled glance at the way Dani’s cigarette shook in her fingers. 

She tried to focus on breathing: inhale, suck the smoke from the cigarette into her lungs, feel that brief sharpening of reality, exhale the smoke out through her mouth. She was only vaguely aware of what they were talking about until Owen mentioned Miles and Flora. 

“They don’t remember,” he said, and something ugly and foreign started to take shape inside of Dani, something like jealousy, seething and blood-red and unlike anything she’d ever felt, because it was wrong to feel that way, wasn’t it, it was wrong to question why she’d done what she’d done, whether it had been worth it, to think _Why me?_

Dani knew Jamie could tell something was wrong. She had felt Jamie looking at her back at the restaurant, trying to catch her gaze, her eyes burning a question into the side of Dani’s face. She felt the same question now, in the cab on their way back to the hotel. She wasn’t in the mood to answer it. 

“What’d you think of the food?” Jamie said, with the nervous energy of someone trying to recalibrate themselves to an inexplicable shift in mood. “I didn’t realize how much I’d missed Owen’s cooking til I got to have it again.” 

“It was great,” Dani said, her voice faint. 

A heavy silence stretched between them. The cab driver fiddled with the radio knobs and some French electro-pop monstrosity began playing, the bass made tinny and cracked by the cab’s ancient speakers. Jamie reached across the middle seat and took Dani’s hand. 

They reached the hotel. Dani was vaguely aware of Jamie asking the concierge for a bottle of wine sent to their room. Then an elevator ride, Jamie’s thumb stroking the small of Dani’s back, the lock to their door whirring when she swiped the keycard. 

“Tomorrow’s our last day,” Jamie said. “Got nothing planned. Anything you wanna do?” 

“Not really.” She sat on the edge of their bed and stared at the ugly set of paintings on the opposing wall. 

“You sure?” Jamie removed her earrings one by one and placed them on the dresser. “There’s probably some museums we’ve missed, maybe we could look up ticket prices tonight. Or — you know what, we never made it to those gardens we wanted to see, the Tuileries or whatever? Do you want to do that?” 

“I don’t care,” she said wearily. “Whatever you want.” 

“Dani.” Jamie knelt in front of her. “Look, I know something’s up, so can you just talk to me? Please?” 

“I — ” Her voice caught, and she shook her head. 

“Is this about what Owen said at dinner? About the kids?” She laced their fingers together and looked up with the same question as earlier in her eyes, an invitation that Dani so desperately wanted to open herself up to but she _couldn’t_ . If she said it, it would be real. If she said it, it would be the beginning of the end. “Because that’s — it’s bullshit, it is. Even if they’ve forgotten the specifics of it all, they won’t have forgotten _you_. They can’t have.” 

“You think so?” Dani said. She didn’t believe it, but she could let Jamie offer her the life-raft of this white lie, just for now. 

“Yeah. There’s not a soul on this planet who could meet you and forget about you.” 

She allowed a begrudging smile. “Now you’re just straight-up lying to me.” 

“Seriously, Poppins, you leave a fuckin’ impression on people.” She pressed a kiss to Dani’s knee, exposed under the hem of her dress. “D’you know, the first time I saw you actually wasn’t the first time we met? In the kitchen?” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, no, I, ah…” Jamie chuckled. “I was actually out in the garden the day Owen brought you in. Caught a glimpse of you walking up to the manor. Watched you for...an embarrassing amount of time before I was able to get back to work again. Thought about you that whole day, in fact.” 

“No way,” Dani said. “How come you never told me this?” 

“Because it’s _weird_? And embarrassing as shit? Me, up on my damn ladder, almost falling off because I was craning my neck so far to get a good look at you? ” 

“Hmm,” Dani said. The light dancing behind Jamie’s eyes wasn’t enough to chase away the shadows — that she was certain about — but maybe it was enough to make this one moment just a little bit warmer. “You’re for sure making this up, but I’ll allow it.” 

“God’s own truth,” Jamie said, raising her right hand. “I remember thinking, _holy shit, I need to stay away from this woman, because the second she says one word to me I am going to fall all the way in love_.” 

“Well, you really fucked that one up.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She rested her temple against Dani’s thigh. “Worth it, though.” 

“You really think so?” Dani said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. “Even — even still, even — ” 

“Yeah. No matter what, Dani, I mean that.” 

For a long moment they just looked at each other, until Dani said, “Okay. Okay, I’m just gonna — freshen up for a sec. Wash my face and stuff.” She leaned down to place a kiss on Jamie’s hairline. “Then maybe we can open that bottle of wine.” 

The mirror in this particular bathroom was clear and smooth, the room having just been cleaned, and it had a gold filigree around the edge that Dani found a little garish. She knew exactly what sight it would hold — she could feel the Lady awake now, slithering cold and numb inside of her body — and still she let herself hope it would be different. 

It wasn’t, of course. It was the same sight she’d seen at the restaurant. But this time, it didn’t disappear when she blinked. It didn’t swim in her vision, didn’t blur at the edges, didn’t offer any hope that it could still be just a mirage, a trick of her imagination. It remained even as she swiped the surface of the mirror with her hand. It moved with her, like it was a part of her, like it _was_ her. It looked so real that for one terrifying moment, she was convinced that if she put her hand to her own face she’d be met with a flat expanse of skin, her eyes gone, her mouth only able to form that hoarse shriek, her memory eroded away until she, too, was empty. 

She backed away from the mirror. Her legs hit the edge of the bathtub, and her knees nearly buckled. 

“Jamie,” she said, not caring how panicked she sounded. “Jamie!” 

Jamie’s response was immediate. “Yeah?” 

“C — can you, um.” Dani huffed out a breath, cleared her throat. “Can you come here a sec?” 

A beat of silence, and then the door opened a crack, Jamie rapping her knuckles against the doorframe. 

“Yeah, yeah, you can come in.” 

Jamie had her hands in her back pockets, and she’d shaken her hair loose of its updo. She seemed to glow with the easy joy of a night well-spent — large, decadent meal, happy buzz from champagne and wine — and she looked so beautiful even in the fluorescent bathroom light that Dani managed to look away from the mirror to focus on her face instead. 

“All good?” she said. 

Dani nodded. “Could you help me with my zipper?”

She kept her gaze focused down on the sink as Jamie stepped behind her. She wanted something, anything, to think about that wasn’t the emptiness wrapping itself around her mind, so she closed her eyes and tried to will herself back into her own body. Jamie pulled her zipper down gently, her knuckles skimming Dani’s skin. Dani could feel her measured breaths against her shoulder blades. 

Jamie always touched her so reverently, like she would break in half if handled the wrong way, and to be honest, that was how Dani had felt around her at first. The very first night they spent together, after Jamie had pulled her sweater off, popped open the button on her jeans, carefully unhooked her bra, she’d pulled back for a moment just to look. _Christ, you’re so beautiful_ , she’d whispered. Dani had felt like an exposed nerve, raw and naked in a way that felt more than just physical, and when she could finally look Jamie in the eyes she’d found that the heat in Jamie’s gaze felt more like the warmth of the sun than that of a flame. 

Now all she felt was cold. 

She chanced a brief look into the mirror. The Lady was still there. God, she was so fucking _tired_ already, and so fucking cold, like the Lady had brought the lake-water with her and was channeling it through Dani’s veins. 

“Actually, can you just take it off all the way?” she said, possessed by a sudden need to feel Jamie’s hands on her, Jamie all over her, inside of her, to feel anything that wasn’t this endless cold.

Jamie gave an affirmative hum and pulled the upper half of the dress down until it hung at Dani’s waist. It was too little, too slow; she needed more than just the feel of Jamie’s callouses against her arms, needed Jamie to be firm, strong, to hold her together and fuck her back to herself. It was a desperate, animal want that felt entirely foreign to her, which scared her all the more. She could see Jamie’s face in the mirror, the way her eyes slid down the length of Dani’s back, her gaze seeming to catch at each disc of her spine. 

She turned around and pulled Jamie into a bruising kiss. They rarely ever kissed like this, artless and clumsy, teeth clacking together at first from the haste of it; they were normally so in sync that every touch between them felt sort of pre-ordained, but now Dani surged forward almost thoughtlessly, wrapping one hand around the back of Jamie’s neck and pressing the other into her hip, bringing the lines of their bodies flush with one another. If she could only make it so that no part of her skin had to go untouched by Jamie, she thought, she’d be grounded, she would be okay. She could feel Jamie smiling into her mouth, the way she always did, even after years of doing the same thing every day. How long did she have before Jamie stopped smiling at her like that?

When she brought her shaking fingers to the hem of Jamie’s shirt, Jamie pulled away briefly to mutter, “D’you want to, you know,” and angled her head toward the bathroom door. 

“No,” Dani said. 

“No?” 

“I need you right _now_ ,” she said, voice high and breaking, so Jamie stepped them both back until Dani could hoist herself onto the countertop, her legs bracketing Jamie’s hips. Without looking, she splayed one hand out behind her for purchase, knocking a tube of toothpaste off the counter, which made Jamie laugh. 

“You sure you’re alright,” Jamie said, more of a statement than a question. 

“Jamie,” she said, “please,” which was all it took.

Then Jamie was touching her, and then Jamie was inside her, finally, fucking finally, and her other hand was cupping Dani’s cheek with a tenderness that seemed almost obscene, considering the context. It felt like she’d been waiting all evening for this, or probably her whole life in some way: for Jamie to reel her back to earth with her hands and mouth and body, to provide her with the physical evidence of her existence. Jamie had her forehead pressed hard into Dani’s shoulder, so that each of her open-mouthed breaths, the quiet low sounds she always made when she was fucking Dani, spread hot and gasping over the skin of Dani’s neck and chest. 

(Dani had started trying to mentally catalogue these small, dizzying details of Jamie, now that she was sure there would be a day when she could no longer witness them for herself. She repeated them to herself in private moments, replayed until she had them memorized: the angle at which Jamie’s eyebrows peaked when she was close to the edge, the sidelong slant of the smile she reserved only for Dani, the way she liked holding Dani by her hips, her thumbs pressed firmly into the bones there, anchoring Dani in place. 

More than anything Dani thought about the very first night they’d made love, until it took on a magical, unreal quality in her memory. _Jesus,_ Jamie had said then, _God, Dani,_ over and over again, a liturgy recited in the dark of Dani’s room. Having never done this before, she’d been nervous, but really all she had to do was exactly what she wanted to: press her mouth and her tongue to Jamie, chase those same breathless sounds, drink her in. Maybe it was just memory making it seem more beautiful in hindsight, but Dani didn’t think she’d ever really felt alive until she felt Jamie come undone underneath her that way.)

When she was close she wrapped one hand around Jamie’s jaw and said, “Look at me,” pulling her face upward and in. They were close enough that their noses brushed and Jamie’s face went blurry in Dani’s vision, but she could still see what was important, which was the urgent, insistent look in Jamie’s eyes as she worked Dani over. _Tell me I’m here,_ she wanted to say, _tell me who I am, tell me I’m yours_ , but instead she just breathed, “I love you,” and came with a gasp as soon as Jamie said it back, looking straight at Jamie’s perfect steady face, and then pulling her into a messy kiss as soon as it was over.

They stayed like that for a while afterwards, breathing together in silence with their foreheads tipped together, Jamie leaning against the countertop with her hands on either side of Dani. 

“Sorry,” Dani said, once her heart stopped pounding so heavily. “I kinda jumped you out of nowhere, didn’t I?” 

Jamie laughed and kissed Dani’s throat briefly. “Jesus, you definitely don’t ever need to apologize for that.” 

Ever since the Lady had started drifting to the surface, Dani had started wondering whether what she was doing — namely, hiding it from Jamie — was wrong. If it was a form of lying, of tricking Jamie into being with someone she no longer fully knew. She’d known what she was signing up for, in theory, but had either of them _really_ known what it would actually look like, what the day-to-day reality of it would involve? And if she knew, now, would she make the same decision? 

Dani knew now that she was, effectively, asking Jamie to stand by and watch as pieces of her were cut away, replaced by something dark and ancient and angry. What she didn’t know was how much of _her_ would be left behind in the aftermath. How could it be fair, to tether Jamie to that? 

“Maybe we don’t have to do anything tomorrow,” Jamie said. “Could just stay in the room all day.” 

“You wouldn’t mind?” She had, in fact, been the one to make them an itemized, color-coded list of sights to see and places to visit, several months in advance; normally, on vacations, it was her who would drag Jamie around by the hand, her who wanted to take in everything while Jamie rolled her eyes good-naturedly and followed behind. She’d tried to keep up that spirit in Paris, but it was getting harder by the day. 

“Would I mind laying in bed with you for twelve hours straight? ‘Course not.” 

“You can say if you want to do something, you know. You don’t have to just go along with what I want,” she said, although she knew this was futile. What she wanted was what Jamie wanted. “It’s our last day to...y’know, experience Paris, and all. I don’t want you to miss out on anything. What about the — the gardens?” 

“Don’t care that much about the gardens,” Jamie said, taking her hands and kissing her knuckles. “Plus, I reckon smoking and eating croissants and fucking all day is about as Parisian as it gets.” 

“Mmm, I think you have to call it _making love_ when you’re in Paris. Y’know, ‘cause of the — ” 

“Ah, the whole _city of love_ thing, right,” Jamie finished, grinning. “So it’s settled? We do absolutely nothing tomorrow?” 

Dani smiled down at Jamie, who was looking at her with such gentle devotion that it was probably making her blush. Her chest hurt, and she couldn’t decide if it was in a good, so-sweet-it’s-painful way, or a bad-actual-pain way. Either way, she figured, it meant she was alive. 

“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” she said. 

“That’s my line, Poppins.” 

“Well, I’m stealing it.”

It occurred to her then what an odd position they were in, really — Dani sitting right against the lip of the sink, their toiletries scattered around them, and the harsh white lights that really shouldn’t have been flattering on Jamie but somehow made her look as good as always — but it felt, even then, like one she’d remember for a long time after. Being with Jamie had a way of doing that, of making the smallest moments of daily life feel huge and romantic. 

Later, when they were in bed after finally finishing that bottle of wine, Jamie rolled over and kissed Dani once, long and languorous. “Have I told you today,” she said, nestling her face in Dani’s neck, “how lucky I am to love you?”

“Probably. But maybe you should tell me again, just to be safe.” 

“I’ll tell you as often as I have to. Every day. Every hour, every minute.” Jamie wrinkled her nose at herself. “Christ, that’s corny.” 

“I think you’re a little drunk,” Dani told her. 

“So what if I am,” Jamie said. “I mean it, I always will.”

A few months ago she probably would’ve started crying just then. Now she just put her arms around Jamie and drew her in tighter. Someday soon she’d have to tell her all of it, and things would come crumbling down not long after, and they’d have to navigate the wreckage — together, or not — and this would be relegated to another moment in memory. But for now they were here. Dani was here. She held Jamie long after she fell asleep, and put her hand to her chest so she could feel her heart beating; she stayed awake long enough to watch the sky turn a crumpled-petal pink, hear the early-morning sounds of the city coming awake, take in the cool air-conditioned breeze against her skin. The beauty of all the life taking place around them. Jamie breathing in her arms, steady and warm. 


End file.
